Just A Coincidence & Florence (Dave Slater Mystery Doubles Book 1)

by Ford,P. F.

  ‘What do you think, Ian?’ called Slater.

  ‘It’s difficult to say,’ he answered, stepping from the heap and heading towards them. ‘I would imagine a compost heap in a working vegetable garden like this gets disturbed all the time so I’m not surprised I can’t get a reading. But if the dog says we should look here, I think we should listen to what it’s saying. If you think about it, this would be a bloody good place to hide a body.

  ‘For a start, the heat from the compost would speed up decomposition, and you don’t keep moving your compost heap around, do you? I think we should clear the heap down to ground level and then take another look.’

  ‘That makes sense to me,’ said Norman.

  ‘It would have been the last place I would have looked,’ agreed Slater.

  ‘Right guys,’ said Becks, to his two diggers. ‘Let’s get this lot moved.’

  He stood back next to Slater and Norman and watched as his team went into action. After a few seconds, he turned to Slater.

  ‘What’s that funny smell?’ he asked.

  Slater inclined his head towards Norman.

  ‘Someone’s got new aftershave,’ he said, grinning.

  Becks turned his gaze to the unfortunate Norman.

  ‘We’re trying to use working dogs, here,’ he said, struggling to keep a straight face. ‘They’ve got very sensitive noses. That stuff’s going to overpower anything less powerful than a skunk.’

  Norman looked at Becks, then Slater, and then back to Becks.

  ‘I have only two words to say to you peasants,’ he said huffily. ‘And the second one is off.’

  Slater and Becks roared with laughter.

  Twenty minutes later, the compost heap had been removed and a layer of loose soil removed. The spaniels were set loose again. Almost immediately, the older of the two dogs found what he was sniffing for and sat down to indicate where he thought there was a body. Fine drizzle began to fall as Ian Becks moved in and swept the area with his GPR machine.

  ‘I think we might have something here,’ he said, his excitement affecting all of them. But the rain was getting worse now. He looked up at the sky which had turned a dark, slate grey since they’d been on site. ‘We need to get a tent over this. If it gets too wet it’ll turn into a quagmire in no time.’

  The dogs had done their work for now. There was no point keeping them out in the rain just for the sake of it, so they were taken back to their vehicle. It was going to be shovel power from here on in. But by the time the tent was erected, the rain had turned to hail and the sky had become so black it was like night, even though it was still an hour before sunset. Then, as the six figures huddled under the tent, there was a flash of lightning and an ominous rumble from the sky.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I think we’re going to have to leave this until the morning,’ said Ian Becks. ‘We haven’t got good enough lights to work out here in this, and I’m not happy having my people out here in this weather. And I can’t get the overtime sanctioned anyway.’

  Slater wasn’t exactly over the moon at this news, but he wasn’t really surprised. There didn’t seem to be any money available for anything at the moment, and they still had two months to go before the year-end.

  ‘I think you’re right,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘If there are any bodies under here they’ve been here for fifty years. Another day won’t make a whole lot of difference. Maybe the weather will be a bit brighter in the morning.’

  ‘We’ll be back here at eight,’ promised Becks. ‘There’s no point in you coming out here to stand around. I’ll call you as soon as we find anything.’

  ‘You sound very confident,’ Norman observed.

  ‘I’ve just got a feeling,’ said Becks.

  Chapter Thirty

  It was nine-thirty the next morning when Slater took the call he had been waiting to hear, but not wanting to hear, from Ian Becks.

  ‘We’ve found a skull,’ said Becks. ‘I’m no expert, but I think it’s an adult, not a child.’

  ‘An adult?’ exclaimed Slater. ‘But we don’t have a missing adult. All the staff are accounted for.’

  ‘So, maybe they had staff who weren’t registered to look after the kids who weren’t registered.’

  ‘Yeah, but…’ Slater didn’t really know what to say. He hadn’t been expecting this.

  ‘I’ve already phoned for the mobile pathology team,’ said Becks. ‘I had warned them we might need their help. They’re on the way here now. They should be here by lunchtime. In the meantime, they’ve asked us to stop digging until they arrive.’

  ‘Right,’ said Slater. ‘There’s no point in us rushing up there until you’ve got something for us to see. In the meantime, I think there’s someone me and Norm need to speak to about those gardens. And before I do anything I need to speak to a higher authority.’

  ‘I should also let you know the dogs have found another possible site.’

  ‘You’re kidding me. I thought you said they couldn’t detect skeletons.’

  ‘It might be a false alarm, but it’s the same dog that found this one, so I’m not going to argue. This time there’s a shed on top, so I figure it’s a good bet.’

  ‘What have we got up there, Ian, a bloody graveyard?’ asked an appalled Slater.

  ‘It’s beginning to look like it, isn’t it?’

  ‘Okay. Thanks for calling. We’ll call in later this afternoon to see how you’re doing.’

  Slater put the phone back with a heavy heart.

  ‘Problems?’ asked Jolly.

  ‘They’ve found one body already, and one of the dogs seems to think there’s another site close by,’ he said.

  ‘Oh. I see. Not so good then,’ she said, grimly.

  ‘I’m beginning to wonder what exactly we’ve uncovered up there.’

  ‘You can see why Mr Winter’s death was made to look like an accident now, can’t you?’ said Jolly. ‘And if the house hadn’t been ransacked we would never have suspected any different.’

  ‘No. That’s not right. You suspected from the start. I was the one who dismissed the idea out of hand. If you hadn’t been so convinced it wasn’t right, we’d never have got anywhere.’

  ‘Just a lucky hunch,’ she said.

  ‘The Old Man told me hunches are unreliable,’ said Slater, ruefully. ‘That wasn’t the case here was it?’

  He pushed back his chair.

  ‘Talking of the Old Man,’ he said, ‘I suppose I’d better go and tell him about our latest development. Maybe now he’ll let us start investigating Sir Robert bloody Maunder properly.

  ‘Come.’ Murray’s voiced boomed through the door.

  Slater opened the door just enough to poke his head through.

  ‘Err, have you got a minute, Boss?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, come in, man,’ said Murray, mildly. ‘There’s no need to hide behind the door. I don’t bite.’

  ‘I thought you were going to the other day.’

  ‘This isn’t about Sir Robert again, is it?’ Murray sighed. ‘You don’t give up do you?’

  ‘You told us to carry on investigating the two murders,’ explained Slater. ‘And you said it was okay to start a search of the grounds, so we have. Now the search team have uncovered a body. Or at least they’ve found a skull, but that’s what we’d expect if the body’s been there for fifty years.’

  ‘Oh bugger,’ said Murray, wearily.

  ‘And the cadaver dogs have indicated another grave,’ added Slater.

  ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘I need your permission to investigate Maunder,’ said Slater. ‘We can’t ignore the possibility any longer, boss. We need to interview him properly.’

  ‘Let me make some calls. It might be better if he volunteered to come in and be interviewed. In the meantime, I’ll get you a warrant to start checking out his financials etc. But I don’t want you making a song and dance about it, right? I want it low key.’

  ‘Of course,’ agreed Slater. ‘Believ
e it or not, I’m not enjoying this, Guv.’

  ‘Low key?’ said Norman, indignantly. ‘If it was anyone else we’d be speeding up there with a search warrant and a dozen uniforms. But because it’s Sir Robert Maunder he’s going to be invited to come in for a chat. Talk about one rule for us and one for them.’

  Slater knew exactly what Norman was getting so uptight about, but there was nothing they could do about it.

  ‘So what do we do in the meantime?’ asked Norman. ‘Sit on our hands and wait?’

  ‘I’ve got a much better idea than that,’ said Slater. ‘Jane knows what to look for so it’s best if she stays here and keeps on digging into Maunder’s affairs. In the meantime, we are going down to Portsmouth.’

  ‘What’s at Portsmouth?’

  ‘Who’s the one person who might know what exactly is buried in those gardens and where?’

  ‘Of course.’ Norman grinned. ‘Gordon the gardener.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  ‘You’ll see why I suggested you bring your coat now,’ Slater said to Norman as he parked his car outside the Belmont Nursing Home.

  ‘But these places always have the heating wound up so it’s like a sauna,’ argued Norman. ‘We won’t need coats in there.’

  ‘The thing is we won’t be in there,’ said Slater, with a grin. ‘Gordon’s a gardener, right? He still prefers the great outdoors. He’ll be sitting out on the terrace at the back, all on his lonesome, staring out to sea.’

  ‘What are you, psychic?’ asked Norman.

  ‘No. I just thought it would be a good idea to phone ahead and make sure it was okay to come. Apparently it’s all he’s done since I came last time.’

  ‘No shit. Good job I brought my hat and gloves too.’

  They found Ferguson exactly where Slater had left him last time he came. They took a seat either side of him. If he noticed them, he didn’t show it, continuing to stare off across the sea at nothing in particular.

  ‘Hello, Dougal,’ said Slater. ‘It is ok if I call you Dougal, is it?’

  ‘You can call me whatever you like,’ said Ferguson without looking at Slater or Norman. ‘I’ve nothing to say to you.’

  ‘This is my colleague, DS Norman,’ continued Slater. ‘He’s working with me on the Hatton House case.’

  ‘We went up there and looked at the gardens,’ said Norman. ‘Someone’s been doing a great job looking after them. We figured it must be someone who knows what they’re doing, like a retired gardener, perhaps.’

  For the first time, Ferguson moved his gaze away from the sea. He turned and looked at Norman as if he was a gibbering idiot.

  ‘It’s all I can do to get from my room out to this bloody terrace, son,’ he said. ‘I’m dyin’ of the cancer. Do you really think I could get up there and look after a garden?’

  ‘I didn’t mean you,’ said Norman. ‘But maybe you had someone helping you back then.’

  ‘The only one I ever let help me in that garden was my wife, and then when she died I was on my own, until young Florence turned up. She loved the gardens. If she’s living there she’ll be the one taking care of the plants. She won’t need any help, she’s a natural.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Norman. ‘She must be even better than I thought.’

  ‘It’s time for you to start talking, Dougal,’ said Slater. ‘You can’t keep on saying nothing.’

  The old man returned his gaze to the sea once more.

  ‘D’you know what a cadaver dog is, Dougal?’ asked Norman.

  The old man didn’t appear to move, but Norman had spotted the slight, nervous, tic that briefly affected his right eye.

  ‘They’re amazing animals,’ said Norman. ‘Their noses are so sensitive they can detect a dead body underground. They can smell the decay. It’s incredible. We’ve got one that can even detect skeletons long after the body’s decomposed.’

  The tic worsened.

  ‘The thing is,’ confided Norman, ‘we’ve been searching the walled vegetable garden at Hatton House. You remember that walled garden, right? You’ll recall there’s a big old compost heap. Guess what one of our dogs has found under it?’

  The old man said nothing.

  ‘But then, we don’t think you need to guess what the dog found, do you, Dougal? You know exactly what that dog found, and you know whose body it is.’

  The old man sniffed a couple of times, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and pulled a huge handkerchief from his pocket. He blotted his eyes, but continued to stare out to sea.

  ‘I should deny it and tell you I know nothing,’ he said at last. ‘But I’ve carried that secret for fifty years and now I’m close to meeting my maker maybe it’s time to confess and get rid of my burden.’

  ‘Confess to what, Dougal?’ asked Slater. ‘Is this what you were telling me the other day? About how they had threatened to report you to the police?’

  ‘I didn’t kill her,’ said Ferguson, vehemently. ‘It was an accident. She slipped and fell, hit her head. It was just a terrible accident.’

  ‘Who?’ asked Norman. ‘Who are you talking about?’

  ‘My wife, of course,’ said Ferguson. ‘It would have been my word against theirs. I didn’t know what else to do, so I did as they said and buried her in the garden. If anyone asked I was to tell them she’d run away with another man.’

  ‘You buried your wife under a compost heap?’ asked Norman, aghast.

  ‘So what are you going to do about it?’ snapped Ferguson, turning to face Norman, clearly upset by the whole situation. ‘You want to throw me in jail? Fine. I’ll be dead in six months so what do I care?’

  ‘Just calm down, Dougal,’ said Slater. ‘No one’s going to throw you in jail. But you know it’s time you told us everything, don’t you?’

  The old man turned his gaze back to the sea.

  ‘Even now,’ said Slater, ‘fifty years on, people are still dying because of what went on back then. Do you think that’s right, Dougal? If you tell us what you know we can stop this before anyone else dies.’

  ‘You’ll have to arrest me,’ said Ferguson. ‘And even then you’ll be wastin’ your time. I’m telling you nothing. Now, what time is it?’

  ‘Coming up for three-thirty,’ said Norman.

  ‘They’ll be coming to take me in for my doctor’s appointment shortly. So you might as well be on your way.’

  ‘Tell me about Florence,’ said Slater.

  ‘There’s nothing to tell.’

  ‘What about The Magic Roundabout?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Dougal,’ said Norman, impatiently. ‘She had posters and toys. She was Florence, her brother was Dylan, and you’re Dougal. Was it her escape?’

  ‘What do you mean she had posters? You said she was Florence. What’s happened to her?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but she was murdered, Dougal,’ said Slater. ‘Bashed over the head and then dumped into the freezing canal. It was DS Norman, here, who found her.’

  ‘We think she was killed because someone thought she knew something and was going to talk,’ said Norman. ‘She had been hiding for the best part of fifty years. So what did she know that make her hide for all that time, and still get her killed?

  The old man said nothing, but he seemed to slump even lower in his seat. A tear slipped quietly from his eye and rolled slowly down his cheek.

  ‘Poor wee thing,’ he muttered.

  ‘Mr Ferguson,’ called an approaching female voice. ‘Come on inside now. Dr McKenzie’s here to see you.’

  ‘Can you help me to my feet?’ said Ferguson, turning to Slater. ‘I have to see the cancer doctor just now.’

  They helped him inside for his appointment and made their way back to the car.

  ‘So, what do we do now?’ asked Norman as they climbed in. ‘Poor old guy can hardly walk from A to B. If we arrest him there’s a good chance it might kill him.’

  ‘Yeah,’ sighed Slater. ‘I thought telling him about Fl
orence might have been enough to tip him over the edge, you know?’

  ‘Perhaps it would have if that nurse hadn’t whisked him away at the vital moment,’ said Norman, gloomily.

  ‘Maybe he’ll feel different when he’s had time to think about it,’ suggested Slater. ‘He’s obviously scared of something, or someone, but there must be a tipping point. Perhaps we need to find a child’s body. Maybe then we would have a big enough lever to overcome his fear.’

  ‘I suppose he’s not going anywhere in the meantime, is he?’ agreed Norman.

  They had only been on the road for ten minutes when Slater’s mobile phone began to ring.

  ‘Hi Becksy, what have you got for us?’

  ‘Are you in the car?’ asked Becks.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Slater. ‘But I’m hands free so you’re alright. I’ve got Norm here too.’

  ‘Right,’ said Becks. ‘You wouldn’t believe the progress we’ve made this afternoon. I was expecting two forensic pathologists to arrive, but they’ve brought a small army of students with them.’

  ‘Sounds like chaos,’ said Norman.

  ‘These are keen students,’ said Becks, laughing. ‘They’ve come to learn, and they’re not frightened of hard work.’

  ‘So what have you found?’ asked Slater.

  ‘They’ve not finished yet, obviously, so these results are yet to be confirmed, but so far, we’ve recovered the skeleton of an adult female and two children from beneath the compost heap.’

  ‘Any idea what age these kids were?’ asked Slater.

  ‘They’re guessing right now, but they reckon about twelve years old.’

  ‘Shit!’ said Norman, in dismay. ‘So when they finished abusing them they just killed them?’

  ‘Looks that way, doesn’t it?’ said Becks. ‘Do you want to hear the rest?’

  ‘There’s more?’ asked Norman.

  ‘Well, yeah,’ said Becks. ‘Remember I said the dog had suggested we check under the shed? Well, with all these workers around it was no trouble to clear the area and start digging there, too. We’ve found three more children, so far.’

  Slater swore, loudly.